Maid of Athens! I am gone: vice-consul. Byron and Hobhouse lodged at [Her story ends sadly. She married an Englishman named Black, employed in H.M. Consular Service at Mesolonghi. She survived her husband, fell into great poverty, .. and died October 15, 1875, aged 80 years.] If I Romaic expression of tenderness. translate it, I shall affront the gentlemen, as it may seem that I supposed they could not; and, if I do not, I may affront the ladies. For fear of any misconstruction on the part of the latter, I shall do so, begging pardon of the learned. It means "My life, I love you!" which sounds very prettily in all languages, and is as much in fashion in Greece at this day as, Juvenal tells us, the two first words were amongst the Roman ladies, whose erotic expressions were all Hellenised. In the East (where ladies are not taught to write, lest they should scribble assignations), flowers, cinders, pebbles, etc., convey the sentiments of the parties, by that universal deputy of Mercury an old woman. A cinder says, "I burn for thee;" a bunch of flowers tied with hair, "Take me and fly;" but a pebble declares what nothing else can. « Δεῦτε παῖδες τῶν Ἑλλήνων. 1' 2 SONS of the Greeks, arise! The glorious hour's gone forth, [These lines are copied from a leaf of the original MS. of the Second Canto of Childe Harold. They are headed, "Lines written beneath the Picture of J. U. D."] The song Acûre maides, etc., was written by Riza, who perished in the attempt to revolutionise Greece. This translation is as literal as the author could make it in verse. It is of the same measure as that of the original. CHORUS. Sons of Greeks! let us go Then manfully despising The Turkish tyrant's yoke, Oh, start again to life! At the sound of my trumpet breaking Sons of Greeks, etc. Sparta, Sparta, why in slumbers That chief of ancient song, To keep his country free; Sons of Greeks, etc. [First published, Childe Harold, 1812 (4to).] And now, O Malta! since thou'st got us, Then, in my solitary nook, Return to scribbling, or a book, Or take my physic while I'm able (Two spoonfuls hourly, by this label), Prefer my nightcap to my beaver, And bless my stars I've got a fever. May 26, 1811. [First published, 1816.] 'Twere long to tell, and vain to hear, And I have acted well my part, And showed, alas! in each caress |